


What does she think about roses?

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 06:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: Emma struggles to buy Regina flowers cause she has no idea what to pick. Asked by n3v3r_mind via twitter





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set on: Some point after 6b

I don’t know if this was what you had in mind but as I was writing the scene this idea came to me and I couldn’t write anything else ever since then. Henry being a little shit is always funny to write about xd Thank you for the prompt ;)

“What do you think about roses?”

Henry looked up from his textbook with a raised eyebrow and looked at his blonde mother who had just slide up in the booth he was seated at, a feigned look of calmness that got promptly destroyed by the way her fingertips drummed against the table’s surface.

“What about them?” He counter asked while putting down his pen, homework be dammed.

Granny’s was bustling with energy being mid-afternoon and so the shift in where children -finally free from school- came to the dinner’s counter decided to drink as much chocolate as possible before heading back to their parents. However, the sound of laughter and passing conversations didn’t drown Emma’s nervous drumming as she looked at him with narrowed eyes, as if deciding how much she could confide on her teen son. Henry kept his brow cocked, a trait he knew he had learnt from his other mother and one he also knew that messed up with the woman he had in front of him. Finally, after a few more seconds of pointless staring Emma let out a deep sigh and nodded to herself before she put her elbows down the table, closing the distance between her son and herself as much as possible over it.

“Regina, does she like roses?”

It would have been a lie for Henry to say that he hadn’t figured out his blonde mother’s earlier question but the blunt way Emma finally came clean to him was something he had certainly not expected and for that he blinked for a few seconds before mirroring Emma’s stance over his textbooks. Trying to hid a smirk he tilted his head to one side, feigning concentration before shaking his head and shrugging.

“I don’t know, maybe?” He said, wincing when he heard how his voice broke at the end of the question, a slightly higher pitch momentarily breaking the deep tone he had been using until then. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I think she hasn’t ever had any flowers at home she said she especially liked them.”

Emma looked at her hands for some long moments before closing her eyes for a second, re-opening them just as quickly as she slouched down the booth’s seat, feigning disinterest just as a waitress approached them, asking softly if Emma would want anything to drink or eat. The blonde answered just as quickly with an elusive smile that promptly fell as she turned to look back at Henry, the teen already pretending to read from his book while glancing at his blonde mother every few seconds, waiting for her to break.

He wasn’t stupid, he had already told Violet how he had seen both of his mother look longingly at each other ever since her blonde mother had plucked out that damned ring from her finger and, after looking at it for far longer than he would have liked, she had given it back to Hook with an “I can’t do this anymore” That had left everyone -except apparently the pirate himself- without anything to say. He had left by the following morning, ship nowhere in sight and a list of insults Henry knew for a fact Regina would have preferred for him to pretend he hadn’t heard them.

Ever since then his mothers had returned to the friendship that had started to develop over operation mongoose and who neither of the three of them had really talked about even though Henry had seen Regina look at him quizzically every time he snorted whenever Emma promised Regina to help her find a happy ending. Which, yeah, it had quickly become something comical to think about; how Emma kept fighting for something that could be easily found if she looked at a mirror long enough to realize that Regina only seemed to have eyes for her. Although, being his mothers and all, he didn’t really want to think on the details as much as Violet had started to question him about ever since he had confided on her about the blindness his mothers seemed to had.

Speaking of that, Emma was mumbling under her breath with that glazed looked she always got whenever she talked about Regina. (The word gross had already been overused by Henry’s own psyche and being the writer and author he wanted to be he decided to settle on clueless as he stared at his blonde mother and the way she fidgeted with her fingers over her lap, playing with her knuckles.)

“I can’t buy her roses then, too obvious and lilies are just… too subtextual? Or perhaps too much… Tulips?...”

Henry groaned inwardly before placing his pen down again. It was fun to mess with their mothers and the obvious feelings they had for each other -who else would have absorbed that much darkness except the woman he had in front of him in order to save the other? - but if he wanted to have his homework done by dinner he would need to help a little. And he really wasn’t sure if he wanted all the details of why Emma thought his mother deserved some flowers.

“Now that I think about it I think she said she liked gardenias once.” He murmured, shrugging apologetically when Emma looked at him, woken up from her reverie. “Perhaps they have them back at Game of Thorns?”

After a quick nod and something that seemed to be a “Thank you kid” And enough change for him to pay anything he may had wanted to eat for the rest of the afternoon Emma was gone, car keys already dangling on her fingers and a soft smile curving her lips.

Later that day Henry found Regina looking at a vase of freshly new gardenias with that same glazed look on her face Emma had been sporting and which he wanted to sigh at.

The day those two realized how they felt he was going to ask for more allowance. And car driving lessons. Not from his grandfather though. Never again.

 

 

 

 

Gardenias (according to one of the many flower dictionary that lay around the internet) mean sincerity.  


End file.
